


Give Us A Sign

by SortOfABigDeal



Series: Phasmo AU [1]
Category: Phasmophobia (Video Game), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: All the Others are ghosts, All the light sides are hunters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Everyone Angst, Fear of Death, Ghosts, I decided not to put Major Character Death but, Im going to say this now, Injury, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Possession, Sexual Humor, Strangulation, Swearing, This is a ghost horror game, also Logan comes very close to dying, and it could be argued that he continues to try and do so for a large portion of the story, and it may be brought up, and on that note, because im aro, however Virgil does nearly kill Logan, its a horror game au it’s gonna get pretty dark, no ships, no unsympathetic characters, obviously there has been major character death in the past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29168808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SortOfABigDeal/pseuds/SortOfABigDeal
Summary: Patton, Roman, and Logan are ghost hunters, and they’re pretty good ones too. That is, until they have a near deadly encounter with a ghost named Virgil, and suddenly Logan’s acting really strange...Eh, it’s probably nothing, right?Or, the Sander Sides Phasmophobia AU no one asked for!
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & The Dark Sides, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Series: Phasmo AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141295
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	1. 1. Nothing to Report

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, new writer here, but hope you enjoy. Please heed the warnings, this is based off a Horror Game and contains Horror Themes. 
> 
> Proceed with caution but please proceed.
> 
> I’ve gathered a list of other hunters in need of help...

**_“Nothing to report, but it looks like whoever was here left in a hurry… I’ve got a report that suggests a possible ghost sighting.  
  
_**

**_… Be careful in there.”_ **

Thomas’ voice echoed around the van from the speaker they had installed on the wall. The ghost hunters shifted nervously, they’d been hoping they might be dealing with a friendly ghost - but the ominous feeling of Thomas’ words implied otherwise.

Patton clicked away on the computer, pulling up camera footage, and then tried switching through them to make sure they all worked. He frowned, clicking again before sighing.

“Hey Ro, do you mind grabbing the video camera as well? There’s only one camera and it’s on the porch…”

Roman flipped his flashlight up into the air and then caught it with one hand, bowing.

“Of course, padre, anything for the big man in the van!”

Patton giggled, and turned to toss the keys to Logan, who caught them after fumbling for a second. Logan debated tucking a crucifix into a loop on his belt, but decided against it, and clipped the spirit box to his shirt to make room in his hands for a thermometer. 

By the time he turned around, Roman was already letting down the van’s ramp - EMF reader on his belt and flashlight in his hand. The ghost writing book and a tripod were tucked under his arms, and in his other hand was a photo camera. The video camera Patton had asked him to set up was hanging from his neck, already on and facing forward.

Logan called over his shoulder as he made his way to Roman’s side, “Are you adequately prepared, Patton?” 

“Sure am! Big Daddy on the bus is ready to keep an eye on his little Kiddos!”

Logan winced, “For one, it is a van. And two,” he turned to Roman, “you need to come up with a better code name immediately.”

Roman grasped Logan’s shoulder, laughing, and steered the two of them off the van, and towards the house.

They approached the door and Logan shifted his flashlight in order to maneuver the key into the hole. As the door creaked open, all teammates fell silent. The hardest part of being a ghost hunter was at hand, the potential point of no return: entering the house with the full knowledge that you may never come out again.

Roman took the plunge first, stepping past Logan and through the doorway. As soon as he crossed the threshold the air around him seemed to still. The ambient sounds of the night life outside cut off abruptly, and their absence was sorely mourned as the energy present in the house surged around Roman. The sudden feeling of _being watched_ gave Roman goosebumps, as it always did, even though he had done this countless times before.

He heard a small sound of discomfort behind him as Logan entered as well. Logan had left the key in the door. It wouldn’t matter all that much if the ghost decided it didn’t want them to leave, but even so, it felt like a safety net. 

“Alrighty,” said Roman into the radio, affectionately bumping shoulders with Logan, “Let’s get this bread.” 

Logan cracked a smile.

 _“I’m B-ready!”_ Came Patton’s voice from the radio.

Logan stopped smiling.

  
  


\----------------------------------

  
  


Splitting up was perhaps not the best strategy when dealing with a ghost that becomes braver around people who are alone, but Logan would argue it was the only way to effectively explore the whole house.

That didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed it. Roman had stayed on the first floor to explore with his EMF reader while Logan had opted to explore the 2nd floor as well as the attic. It is much faster to use a thermometer to find the ghost room, so he took on more of the house in order to compensate for Roman’s slowness. Logan had combed through every room on the second floor, which meant that unless he had missed something, the only viable place left to check was the attic before he could rejoin Roman on the first floor.

The stairs to the attic creaked horribly as he ascended them, which was impressive considering the whole house creaked horribly at all times. As Logan climbed, he became more and more certain of the ghost’s location; and also more and more cold. By the time he’d stepped fully into the attic, he could see his breath freezing as he exhaled. Logan leaned into the radio clipped to his shoulder, swinging his flashlight around the space.

“Roman, Patton, I believe I’ve located the ghost room, it is the attic.”

 _“Yay! Ghost room!”_ Patton cheered from the van.

“Thank _god_.” Roman’s voice echoed back through the radio, “There are so many rooms down here, who needs this many rooms? What kind of _villain_ needs this many rooms?”

Logan sighed, “I believe we can safely mark down _Freezing Temperatures_ as evidence as it is incredibly cold up here, and… Yes, I just checked with the thermometer: -3 degrees celsius.”

“Only nerds use celsius, Logan.”

“Most, if not all, of continental Europe uses celsius, Roman.”

“I know.”

Logan switched off the radio, rolling his eyes. He dropped his thermometer on a desk nearby, still on in case anything changed, and unclipped the spirit box from his shirt pocket. Logan hadn’t believed they would need the crucifix, at least not yet, so he’d left it in the van.

“Patton, have you spotted any ghost orbs?” Logan heard Roman ask as he climbed the attic stairs. He turned, and was greeted to the sight of Roman getting progressively more hunched over the higher he climbed, and the colder the air became. The newly arrived hunter muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘ _of course we get Mr Jack Frost-y breath as our ghost’_ before grabbing a dusty, red blanket from a nearby chair and wrapping it around his shoulders.

_“Sorry, kiddo, nothing so far! Maybe put the camera on that shelf over there?”_

Roman nodded, passing Logan by in order to place the video camera up on the shelf. He turned it around temporarily to click it on and confirm its green light. Then he stepped away, rubbing his arms absently. 

“You have a good view there, Patton?”

_“Sure do!”_

Logan glanced at the thermometer. The second Roman had turned on the camera, the room temperature had dropped several degrees. He waited until Roman turned to face him before lifting the spirit box to his face and switching it on.

“Is there anyone here?”

Logan and Roman waited in silence for a beat. Nothing.

“Can you speak?” Roman asked, leaning over Logan’s shoulder to speak directly into the spirit box. They both knew, for absolute certain, that there was a ghost in the room somewhere. Whether or not it had the right energy to use the spirit box was another matter entirely. Logan briefly wondered if he should ask for a sign, in case this ghost couldn’t speak, before Patton interjected.

_“Logan, Roman, don’t wanna alarm you, kiddos, but that good ol’ ghost activity just spiked up to a four. I think he can hear you.”_

Logan and Roman exchanged a glance. The general rule of thumb was to refer to the ghost with it/its pronouns regardless of the gender of the once living person. That way, the ghost didn’t feel threatened, and could share information about itself on its own terms. Patton saw the ghosts as no different than living people, however, so it was a bit hard getting him to remember. They all knew the ghost’s name, of course: Virgil Maro. But it was unwise to speak it without a ghost’s expressed permission, it seemed to upset them. 

The activity levels proved that the ghost was listening, at least. Maybe it simply couldn’t talk. In that case, communication was going to get a bit more complicated.

“Feel free to speak up at any time. I will leave this device on,” Logan placed the spirit box down on the desk, and turned to face the empty room, “however my associate and I will be operating under the assumption that you are incapable of speech for the foreseeable future. If you can, we would appreciate it if you would-”

“Give us a sign!” Roman interrupted, “Because, no offense, but you’re freezing this room up and I want to get moving.”

They waited. Logan focused on the spirit box while Roman kept his eyes peeled around the attic, looking for moving objects. Nothing. Roman sighed, and gave Logan a look, who shrugged and radioed Patton.

“Patton, is there any chance you’ve seen movement on your end?”

_“Oh! Lemme check, I was watching the- GHOST ORBS!”_

Logan winced and drew the radio as far from his face as possible. Patton’s enthusiasm was often energizing, but it could also be… quite loud.

“Ghost orbs? Are you certain?”

_“Yep! There’s a bunch of them floating all around you guys, they’re so cute!”_

“Well,” Roman said to the ghost, taking out his journal and jotting down the newest piece of evidence. “It looks like you gave us our sign after all, many thanks!”

“It looks as though we are dealing with a Phantom or a Mare, though I don’t know for sure.” Logan mused, also writing down _Ghost Orbs_ in the evidence column of his journal. He hesitated for a second, then made his way over to the closest light switch and flicked it on.

“If this ghost is a Mare, we should witness decreased activity now that the lights are on. Granted, it wasn’t particularly active before, but we should see a difference.” He explained when Roman shot him a questioning look. 

Roman nodded distractedly, glancing down at the EMF reader in his hands. 

“I suppose now is as good a time as any to introduce ourselves. Would you like to know who we are, my ghostly friend?” He said, staring into the space of the attic as if addressing a crowd. Logan eyed the spirit box, but there was no spoken response.

 _“The activity spiked again, I think that means yes, Ro.”_ Patton relayed from outside, he had been keeping an eye on the activity now that ghost orbs had been confirmed. The activity level wasn’t really ever at zero, but Patton had only seen it go higher than a 3 twice so far.

“Well then,” Roman began, gesturing to himself and then to Logan as he spoke. “You may call me Roman, Roman Rhea, and my friend here goes by Logan White.”

“Salutations.”

They paused. It didn’t seem like they’d be getting any verbal responses, but it never hurt to try.

Just like before, there was no audible or visible response; except for Patton, who radioed in to tell them the number of ghost orbs had increased as they’d spoken. Logan released his grip on his radio, letting it hang clipped to his shirt. He turned and started toward the attic stairs, calling over his shoulder at Roman.

“Remain here and attempt to elicit some sort of response, whether it be in the book or out loud. I am going to search the house for a ouija board, in case our ghost would prefer to use that.”

“Roger that.” Roman said, giving him a little wave as Logan descended the stairs.

  
  


\----------------------------------

  
  


Roman watched as Logan disappeared down the stairway, and then turned back to address the attic.

“Guess it’s just you and me now, huh? Between you and me, I get why you didn’t talk to Logan. I love the guy but he could suck the energy out of the sun itself. But hey-”

Roman struck a pose, flashing a charming grin. “Now you’re stuck with _me~”_

He ended the last word with a musical riff, holding it as long as he could before letting it trail off. The room remained as silent as ever, but Roman smiled fondly at the sound of Patton giggling over the radio.

_“Maybe he’s a little shy? Why don’t you sing for him?”_

Roman snapped his fingers, “Great idea, Patton!”   
  
He paused, debating whether or not to talk to the ghost directly before shrugging and twirling around to face the spirit box lying on the nearby desk.

“Say, _Virgil_ , how do you feel about sea shanties?”

The spirit box flew from the desk, and went rocketing across the room to hit the back of a plush chair a few feet away. At the same time, the EMF reader in Roman’s hand went off for the first time that evening: a level 2. Roman glanced from the spirit box-less desk to the EMF reader in his hands and back again before frowning.

“... But everyone likes sea shanties.”

Patton sighed over the radio, keeping an eye on the sudden increase of glowing white dots dancing around the camera feed, as well as the activity level - which was now plateauing at 5. 

_“I’m sure he loves sea shanties, Roman, but you used his name. Logan says we’re not supposed to do that.”_

“Logan says a lot of things, Logan says I shouldn’t surprise him with confetti poppers at 2 a.m. but I don’t see you complaining.” 

_“... Touché.”_

“Logan says you shouldn’t surprise him with confetti poppers at 2 a.m. because Logan doesn’t want to have an aneurism and die, you oaf.” Logan said, coming back up the stairs with a ouija board in his hands.

“Logan, my darling! Logan, my love!” Roman spun back around, spreading his arms wide as if asking for a hug and plastering an overly love-struck smile onto his face. Logan ducked under his arm and crouched to set the ouija board on the floor, craning his head back to glare at Roman.

“I am neither of those things. Flirtation will get you nowhere.”

“Except maybe into your pants- _ow! Logan!_ ” Roman ducked back, laughing, as Logan tossed a paint can at his head. 

**“Roman.”**

“Sorry, sorry!” But he didn’t sound very sorry at all. Not that it mattered, as Logan was also smiling at this point; he shook his head disapprovingly, but Roman could tell his expression was fond.

_“Hey, are you having a love party without me? I love you guys too! Let me join!”_

Roman grinned at that, while Logan just continued shaking his head, already sobering and getting back to the task at hand. He turned to Roman, all traces of laughter gone, and inclined his head toward the door.

“I request that you evacuate the area while I attempt to use the board. I heard the EMF reader go off from the second floor, I assume the ghost became more active while I was gone, correct?”

“‘Active’ is a strong word but it did trip the signal. I’m starting to think it’s a Phantom, we haven’t had any spirit box activity so…”

Logan nodded, “Even still, I’d like to be certain. Wait just outside with the EMF reader, will you? It should still detect anomalies from within the room.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

  
  


\----------------------------------

  
  


The ouija board was pretty dusty, and Logan had questions about why it was in the house in the first place, but it sure made ghost communication much easier. He blew on it, and then smacked it against the ground a few times in order to clear it somewhat.

“Alright,” Logan sat, crossing one leg over the other, and placed both hands on the triangular piece resting on the center of the board, “let’s start off with a simple question, shall we? Is there anyone here?” 

He waited patiently, unlike the spirit box, any ghost could harness their energy to manipulate a ouija board. Slowly, Logan felt the chip under his fingers move toward the ‘yes’ designation in one corner of the board. He and his team had found that ghosts found it easier to answer yes-or-no questions, rather than drawn out answers.

“I appreciate the response, would you mind answering a few more questions for me?”

No.

“That’s good, are you okay with us being here?”

This time there was a pause and Logan felt the chip go still underneath his hands. Eventually, the chip rotated around in a circle before continuing to rest over the word ‘no’.

Logan frowned, glancing around. That wasn’t the answer he’d prefer to hear, but Thomas had warned them that this ghost wasn’t the friendliest.

“No? So would you like us to leave?”

Yes. Logan frowned again.

“My apologies, but we can’t leave just yet. Our job is to classify what type of ghost you are, and we have not yet accomplished that goal.” He adjusted his glasses, noting that the ouija board had fallen silent again.

“If I may: How old do you estimate yourself to be? Young? Old? Or perhaps roughly the same age as me? I am 30, if that helps.”

Nothing; the ghost was evidently still upset about his refusal to leave. Logan knew what the protocol was in cases where the ghost refused to interact, but he was hesitant to say its name. Something told him this ghost was particularly sensitive. Even so… he could not accept silence. They needed that EMF evidence.

“I regret that we must bother you, but this information is vital to our investigation. The faster we gather our intel, the faster we can leave. I implore you to respond.”

Nothing.

“... I am hesitant to bring this up, as I am aware it may very well upset you, but I am not above addressing you directly if that would induce more interaction.”

He waited, again, but the only thing he registered was a further drop in temperature. From outside, he heard Roman call to him.

“Just say its name, I’ve already done it once on accident and it was the only time I got an EMF response.”

Logan blinked, “You said its name? Why?”

“No reason in particular.”

Logan let out a long suffering sigh, but he didn’t lecture Roman as perhaps he would have if the decision to speak Virgil’s name hadn’t provoked such a needed response.

He addressed the ghost in the room once more, “Virgil, I don’t want to do this, but you must understand, we need more evidence.”

Logan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and the attic lights flickered once, twice, before everything settled down again. From outside the room, he heard Roman’s voice.

“I’ve got EMF 3 on the reader, Logan. Keep going.”

In the van, Patton watched as the ghost orbs began to appear more and more. They darted across the screen with increasing speed.

Logan inhaled slowly, willing his instinctual fear response away.

“Virgil. Give us a sign.”

Directly in Logan’s ear, there was a whispered _leave_. It was soft, but there was a definite underlying feeling of urgency and stress to the voice. Logan flinched, startled, but was not deterred. He had had ghosts whisper in his ear before, it wasn’t anything new.

“Virgil, I’ve already told you. We _can’t_ leave. Currently, we believe you to be a Phantom; but belief isn’t enough, we need Roman’s EMF reader to hit level 5.”

_LEAVE._

“No, Virgil.”

 _“Uh, kiddos…”_ Patton’s voice cut through the brewing tension in the room. He’d been watching the ghost orbs on the camera feed. They were getting progressively frenzied, which was worrying. _“Maybe we should wrap this up and come back later. I don’t want anyone getting too upset…”_

Distantly, Logan heard Roman announce that the EMF had reached level 4, but his attention was drawn to the faint image of a hunched-over young man standing just a few feet away. The man was flickering in and out of existence rapidly, and Logan stood without thinking and took a couple steps back. But he didn’t leave - they still needed that last piece of evidence, after all.

“Roman, get the camera. Take a picture while he’s visible.”

The ghost’s face twisted up in distress and anger, and he took shaky steps forward. _Stop. Stop. St_ ** _op. Stop. STOP IT-_**

Logan stumbled backward for every step Virgil took forward, and began to intrinsically regret his decision to ask Roman for a picture. But it was too late, he saw a camera flash out of the corner of his vision. Virgil’s distorted speech cut off abruptly into dangerous silence. The only sound heard was the endless buzzing of the EMF reader as it finally reached level 5.

The lights began to flicker, along with Logan’s flashlight. Roman wasn’t in the room, but Logan imagined he was also having the same problem. A low, sad groan came from in front of Logan and he stiffened. Virgil, who was still visibly wavering between the ghost realm and the realm of the living, began moving toward the two hunters at a steadily increasing speed. His footsteps echoed loudly in Logan’s ears. The radio was on, but whatever Patton had been trying to tell them was drowned out by intense static. 

Logan had the feeling that they were, as Roman would put it, completely screwed.

  
  



	2. 2. Reports of Violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains violence, it will probably be one of the darkest chapters in this story. Virgil is not unsympathetic, but as a phantom he does hunt and attempt to kill, that’s just a mechanic of the horror game. Please read the tags, I wouldn’t consider this too graphic or anything, but still. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Now, Patton wasn’t one to curse, but the string of words that flew out of his mouth when his radio went to static could’ve made a sailor blush. He didn’t even bother glancing at the activity level, he knew it would be a 10.

 _“Oh no, oh no, oh no-”_ he chanted under his breath, practically flying out of the van and towards the door. Through the windows, Patton could see every light in the house was flickering wildly. He could tell that _something_ was going down, and before he even touched the door, he knew he wouldn’t be able to open it. Every ghost hunter worth their salt knew what a Hunt looked like. Not to mention, this wasn’t the first Hunt Patton and his team had endured. 

That didn’t make it any less terrifying every time it happened, though, and it didn’t make Patton any less likely to attempt to break the door down. 

He tried the handle; it didn’t move, of course, so he began throwing his body at the door. Occasionally, especially in really old houses, the doors would cave in under pressure regardless of how powerful the ghost was. Patton fought to open the door with all his might, he had to do _something_ those were his _friends in there._

But there was nothing he could do.

“Roman? Logan? Can you hear me?” He anxiously shouted through the locked door, but there was no response. During a Hunt, the ghost claimed complete ownership of everything in the house, and right now that included his friends.

Patton rested his forehead against the door, and hoped against all odds that his kiddos would be alright.

  
  
\----------------------------------

  
  


Roman felt Logan panic before he even registered the flickering lights. The three ghost hunters had developed a sort of sixth sense over the years, they could guess with a fair amount of accuracy when one of their teammates was in trouble. 

So yes, Roman had sensed Logan’s fear immediately, but even if he hadn’t, he easily could’ve seen it in the way Logan went sprinting down the attic stairs like his life depended on it.

Probably because his life did, in fact, depend on it.

Roman’s instincts were telling him to make a break for it, but he held back just long enough to see Logan safely reach the second floor before taking off down the hall alongside him. Behind them, the phantom groaned miserably, ambling after them with a supernatural anger. The mantra of all hunting ghosts echoed through his head, drowning out any desire to be peaceful.

**Hunt him. Take him. Hunt him. Take him.**

_Mine…_ The phantom honed in on one hunter, the one who’d held the camera. The ghost really, _really_ , didn’t like cameras.

**Hunt him. Take him.**

Deep inside, below the addictive energy of the Hunt, Virgil Maro fought to come back to himself. This is why he’d wanted them to leave, he didn’t want to hurt anybody! He just wanted to be left alone, but these idiot humans—Roman and Logan, he remembered—couldn’t mind their own business. 

And now they were all going to pay the price. 

**He is** ** _mine._** **_They_** **are mine.**

He could feel the light of their flashlights, unfamiliar light was never good for a ghost, and the phantom used it to track their location even as his vision throbbed with an angry, bloody red color. The smell of fear was potent in the air, and the two hunters he was pursuing were covered in it. It emanated from them, and acted like a beacon to the ghost close behind, guiding him unfailingly toward the source. A source that he, deep down, hoped he never reached.

He had never managed to kill anyone during a Hunt before; he didn’t want to find out what it felt like. But they were _right there_ , whispering harshly at each other as they fled from him, and they belonged to himanyway. 

**They are mine. He is mine.**

**Kill them.**

Roman and Logan dashed through the hall until Logan pulled them both to a stop with a hissed, “ _Don’t run, remember? Speed walk. Split up.”_

Roman had _opinions_ about splitting up and most of them came from horror movies, but he wasn’t about to question Logan while they were in the middle of _speed-walking_ for their lives. He knew splitting up decreased the chance of the ghost successfully catching either of them, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. _Stupid Logan with his stupid rational ideas._

Behind them, the phantom’s groaning got louder, and Roman ushered Logan toward the stairs to the first floor before making an abrupt turn into the upstairs storage closet. The groaning abruptly stopped as their pursuer lost sight of both his targets. Then, the sound of footsteps headed toward Roman’s storage closet, getting heavier and more confident with each step.

 _Damn._ Not that Roman wanted the ghost to go after Logan, but he definitely hadn’t wanted it to go after _him_.

_Damn, damn, damn, fucking fuck._

Roman scrambled to the back of the closet, frantically patting himself down in search of anything helpful. Fear was making his hands shaky and he struggled to think through the adrenaline in his system. He had… his camera, and that was pretty much it. What would a camera do against a phantom?

A phantom.

Freezing Temperatures, Ghost Orbs, and EMF 5.

Virgil was a _phantom_. 

Phantoms are afraid of cameras! 

Roman was a _genius!_

Still very shaky and still very much afraid, Roman practically ripped his picture camera from around his neck where he had placed it after leaving his video camera on the bookshelf in the attic. He had no idea if this would stop the hunt, or if this would work at all, but the ghost—Virgil—was getting closer and the groaning was getting louder and Roman could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

The closet door creaked open, and there in the doorway stood the phantom, flickering and groaning and looking very, _very angry_. 

Roman raised the camera. He didn’t have many more pictures he could take, he had to make these ones count.

The ghost’s gaze met his, and Roman broke out in shivers; he looked absolutely _murderous._ The phantom locked onto his target and made a beeline directly for Roman, groaning and hissing and stomping along the floor. Roman waited until he knew the flash of the camera would have full effect. And… _Now!_

 _Flash!_ 3 photos left.

The light of the picture being taken illuminated the room. For a split second, Roman could see the ghost’s face crumple in on itself as he shied away, before disappearing completely. The feeling of being Hunted, however, did not go away; and Roman knew the creature would be on him again soon, so he aimed the camera once more. As soon as the phantom started to flicker back into visibility, Roman took two more pictures of him, rapid fire.

 _Flash! Flash!_ 1 photo left.

Only one of the pictures actually captured the ghost’s form successfully, but Roman had bigger concerns than the _quality of his photos, at the moment_. 

The ghost hissed- _hissed_ like an actual _cat_ \- before disappearing again. But this time, Roman heard footsteps stumbling away from him, and knew the ghost had given up. He let out a relieved puff of air, grateful to be alive, before freezing once more.

The lights were still flickering, which meant the Hunt was still on, which meant that the phantom had given up on killing Roman, yes, but he hadn’t given up on killing entirely, which meant he had to be going after-

_Logan. Fuck._

There was nothing Roman could do for him now. This house was big, but the second floor was nowhere near big enough to flee from the ghost on foot indefinitely. If Roman left his hiding place, he would inevitably be killed. 

He just had to hope Logan would have better luck downstairs. 

  
  


\----------------------------------

  
  


Logan was not having better luck downstairs.

In fact, he feared he might even be absolutely, undeniably, doomed. He’d debated coming to Roman’s aid, but ultimately decided it would only get them both killed. Of course, the way things were going, Logan was starting to suspect he may die either way.

For the first time in a long while, Logan was honest-to-god afraid for his own life which was not a pleasant feeling.He swore, if he made it out of here alive, he’d never take another positive feeling for granted ever again. But that was a big ‘if’ and he didn’t particularly want to focus on the alternative.

**_Hunt him. Kill him. Take him._**

The mantra in the ghost’s head only grew louder the closer he got to his victim. The other human had the camera, which the phantom did _not_ like, no sir, but this human didn’t seem to have such a device. Or, if he did, it wouldn’t matter this time. The ghost would keep hunting until his energy ran out, and as of right now he was still riding high; lost in the haze of red that tainted his vision.

If he couldn’t kill Logan, he supposed he could simply try for the other one, though he’d have to find him again. Once Roman had left his direct line of sight, the phantom had completely forgotten where he was. Ghosts had a fairly good grasp on a lot of human concepts, as they were all once humans themselves, but object permanence was particularly difficult.

The hunting ghost chased Logan down with a single-minded focus, and slowly but surely, he began to catch up. Logan simply didn’t have enough room to outmaneuver him; he had to pause to open doors, slow to move around furniture, there just wasn’t enough space. Logan knew he’d have to hide, or he’d certainly be caught, but he also knew there was almost no chance he’d have time to break the ghost’s line of sight as he entered a room- it was _right behind him he was going to be killed-_

Logan felt cold air against his back, heard groaning in his ear, and all the blood drained from his face. There were no options left, he had to do something _now._

Admittedly, later on, Logan would look back and wonder if the choice he’d made to hide would’ve even made a difference in the long run. He’d assumed he’d be caught if he continued to flee, and had made a decision accordingly; but there was always the chance that the ghost would’ve lost momentum before he could reach him, it would’ve still certainly been a close call, had that happened, but maybe he would’ve gotten away.

It didn’t matter, though, because in that moment Logan felt his attacker breathing down the back of his neck, panicked, and made what he would consider the worst mistake he’d ever made in the history of his career. He pivoted sharply, 90 degrees to the right, opened the first door he saw, (one of the few bedrooms on the first floor) and rushed through the doorway towards the wall on the far side.

He _forgot to close the door behind him_.

When Logan turned around and saw the door open and the phantom already halfway through the doorway, his stomach dropped so fast he felt physically nauseous. He paled, knowing it was too late now. How could he have been so _stupid?_

He knew the answer; he had been so focused on getting away from the ghost he hadn’t been thinking about anything else. And now, he’d pay the price.

The phantom stepped into the room, eyes never leaving Logan, and a dark smile crept across his face. Logan opened his mouth to speak, to plead for mercy, but fear constricted his vocal cords until all that came out was a high-pitched whimpering noise.

The ghost didn’t hear him, or even if he did, the bloodlust brought on by the Hunt drowned out any coherent thought. 

**Kill him. Kill him, take him, kill him, kill him kill him, kill him-**

The paranormal entity felt a sense of satisfaction as he _finally_ moved in for the kill, but it was marred by the human side of him—the true him—which was screaming at him to stop. He didn’t want to _hurt anybody!_

For every step the ghost took forward, Logan took a few stumbling steps backward. His shaking hands were held out in front of him as a sign of submission, but it did nothing to calm the hunter, who only seemed to get more worked up the more afraid Logan became. 

In a rush of adrenaline, his voice returned to him, “Virgil, _wait- please!_ I don’t- I can’t- Virgil, this isn’t _you._ ”

**Kill him.**

Logan retreated further, trying to edge around the ghost and make a break for the door; but the phantom now stood in the middle of the room, and easily lunged to block his path, reaching out to grab him. He missed, but his hand brushed Logan’s arm, who practically fell backwards in his haste to get away.

“Virgil, _please._ You don’t have to do this- _let go of me!”_

**Kill him.**

Logan’s arms flailed as he caught his balance, and his next step brought him up against the opposite wall. He was trapped. There was nowhere left for him to go. He had to- he had to- 

_He didn’t know what to do._

He’d been in haunted houses before, he’d even been through Hunts before, but he’d never truly been scared of dying. 

He’d never known, with chilling certainty, that he was about to be horribly murdered. He’d never known the feeling of being out of time, being too late, to this degree.

He was very, very scared.

“Virgil, I…” Logan’s silver-tongue was failing him, he had nothing he could think to say to save himself, “Virgil, I don’t want to die. Just- _please._ ”

**Kill him.**

The phantom just smiled at him, all teeth and no mercy. Hearing Logan beg for his life was horrific to his human-self, but his human-self wasn’t in control right now, and his ghost side found it _intoxicating_.

He reached out both arms as if simply wanting to embrace, but Logan knew better. Those arms were a death sentence, and they were getting closer and closer.

Terrified out of his mind, and shaky with adrenaline, Logan moved along the wall behind him until he reached a corner, plastering himself into it as if it would protect him from his imminent demise. 

“Virgil, _please,_ I’m _begging_ you, I… I don’t want to die- I can’t- _fuck! Help! Somebody help me!”_ Logan knew no one could hear him, except maybe Roman, who Logan would be overjoyed to see right about now, barring the obvious problem with such a situation. 

He _hoped_ Patton couldn’t hear him and- oh god, _Patton,_ this was going to break his heart. Logan hoped his own death wouldn’t hurt his friends too badly, he knew them to be far too sentimental and he feared the sight of his corpse would cause irreversible damage. He knew for certain, of course, that his death would upset them; it might even make them quit ghost hunting, which was fine by Logan as long as they were able to be okay in the end. If his friends were okay in the end, maybe Logan would be okay too, whatever happened to him after this.

Logan flinched horribly as the aggressive entity pressed up against him, getting closer than a ghost had ever gotten before. The phantom placed both hands on each side of Logan’s face, and let them rest there for a second, as if soaking in the moment. The poor human was shaking so hard the ghost had to apply pressure to hold his head still. 

It was the eye of the hurricane, the calm before the storm, and Logan inhaled sharply as the phantom’s attack paused, stagnant in the air like idle dust specks in the light. The killer had cornered the victim, and the game was about to end. The ghost dragged one hand across his human’s face to wipe the terrified tears from Logan’s closest eye, his body language almost curious. 

For a moment, all was still, and then Logan’s navy blue eyes, wide and wild with adrenaline, met the phantom’s dark purple, unflinching ones, and the moment ended.

The ghost’s movements were slow as his freezing cold hands migrated down from the sides of Logan’s face to wrap gently around his neck. If Logan hadn’t been so intensely focused on where the ghost’s form met his own, he might not have even noticed the change. But as it was, he was all too aware of the hands around his throat and what that signified. 

Logan’s hands came up to grasp at the ghost’s; a pointless instinct, as his hands went straight through the flickering form, and he ended up grabbing at his own neck instead. The ability to speak had left him completely, and in its wake Logan could feel only anticipation. 

The phantom paused again, idly stroking his victim’s neck with a strange fascination. Distantly, Logan guessed it might be because the ghost hadn’t actually touched a living person in a very long time. 

Then, without warning, the phantom’s face crumpled in despair and he _squeezed_.

Most ghosts possessed an unnatural strength that living people simply didn’t have, Logan knew this. Still, he was unprepared for the sheer speed at which the ghost cut off his air. There was no gradual increase in pressure: one second, he was taking short, heaving breaths, and in the next, the phantom was bearing down on him like a truck and crushing his windpipe with one swift movement.

**Kill him. Take him.**

Logan’s mouth fell open in a gasp, or what would have been a gasp if he could get any air in or out of his body. Instead, all that came out was a strangled whine as the attacking ghost impossibly increased the strength of his grip. 

The ghost hunter’s hands tried instinctively to pry whatever force was strangling him away from and off of his throat, but the offending hands slipped through his fingers. He only succeeded in clawing at his own neck in desperation. Logan’s body was beginning to ache with the need for oxygen, and his panicked state only caused his precious air to run out at a faster pace.

The phantom pressed even closer, pinning Logan to the wall even as the human struck out with his limbs at nothingness. Seeking leverage, the ghost pushed the living man up the wall so that his feet no longer touched the ground. In response, Logan made a choking sound that trailed into a horrific-sounding wheeze and began kicking his legs as well. 

The pressure was now not only at his throat, but also in his chest, in his head, and behind his eyes. The ghost hunter’s vision had already been blurry before. At first, it had been because he’d lost his glasses in the chaos of the Hunt and then later, when he’d begun to cry; but now his head was spinning as well, and accompanied by his increasing difficulties with getting his body to respond to his commands, Logan could tell he was losing the fight. 

The lack of air dulled his mind and senses, making his struggles more erratic, at least at first.

By the time Logan consciously acknowledged that he was giving up his battle for life, the effects of the strangulation were widespread and prominent. His vision was pulsing and fading, he could barely hear, and most importantly: the exhaustion was creeping in.

He was going to die, he was going to die, he was _going to die, he was going to die-_

  
  


\----------------------------------

  
  


The phantom didn’t let up his grip, even as he felt his human’s struggles weaken and slow, along with his pulse. And yet, the negative energy that had powered him through the hunt was waning with the calm of a successful kill. In its place, Virgil awakened again, shook off the thick fog, and became absolutely _horrified_.

He’d _caught someone._

Oh god, he’d _killed someone_. 

The man he’d been strangling didn’t react, even as Virgil dropped him abruptly to the floor as if his touch would burn. The phantom crouched down, hissing at the sight of the ugly, dark bruises on the ghost hunter’s throat, and listened for a heartbeat or- or _something!_ He hadn’t meant to _hurt anyone!_

At first, all was quiet, but then—weak, and deep within the human—Virgil heard it. The tell-tale sign of a living person: a heartbeat; but with every second that passed it grew quieter and Virgil began to panic all over again. What was he supposed to _do!?_ He didn’t know how to save a _living person_ , he was _dead_ , for god’s sake! 

He reached toward the dying man again, and let his own energy fill in the empty space in the human’s- in _Logan’s_ mind. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but the phantom part of him seemed to, and without giving any time to second guess himself, he allowed his form to fall _into_ Logan, sinking through the man’s mortal body and filling out the space left by Logan’s weakened consciousness. 

As he became the body’s driving force, he began to get uncomfortable and urgent signals from somewhere telling him he needed to _breathe_ , which Virgil found very disconcerting as he was a ghost and hadn’t felt those things since- 

_Since he was alive._

Upon realizing the urges were, in fact, coming from Logan’s dying body, Virgil immediately began breathing _for_ Logan, opening his airways and flexing his lungs and _what in the goddamn hell was happening?!_

The phantom in him seemed distinctly put out by the fact that Virgil was forcing Logan’s body to breathe, and probably saving his life in the process, but overall the ghost was just glad he hadn’t killed anyone. 

Sensing that, while still recovering, Logan’s body would survive, Virgil calmed. It was fine. He’d just accidentally possessed a ghost hunter, whom he’d chased, caught, and promptly strangled senseless—but it was fine.

This was fine.

Virgil stared out through Logan’s eyes—still wide, but this time blank and fixed on nothing—at the bedroom around them. Logan’s body was limp and lifeless, huddled in one corner. No matter how hard Virgil tried, he couldn’t keep stable control over anything more than the body’s most vital functions. 

Possessions needed time to _set_ , for lack of a better word, and Virgil had been in control of Logan’s mind and body for all of about 3 minutes. It was going to be some time before he could do _anything_ , much less find a way to _leave_. He didn’t want to control Logan anymore than he imagined Logan wanted to be controlled. But for now, this was fine.

“Logan! Are you okay? Can you hear me? Say something! _Please!”_ A very loud and very worried voice echoed down into the bedroom from somewhere upstairs.

This was _not fine._


End file.
